


Crushes, Bakery, and Plums

by CaptainJimothyCarter



Series: Winterhawk Bingo [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes's Plums, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha and Clint own a bakery, Natasha is also tired of Clint's shit, POV Clint Barton, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, WinterHawk Bingo, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJimothyCarter/pseuds/CaptainJimothyCarter
Summary: Natasha and Clint are co-owners and partners in a little cafe in the midst of Brooklyn. Clint doesn't bake. In fact, he's banned from the kitchen thanks to several accidents that are /not/ his fault. Yet, that doesn't stop him from promising to bake a cake for a certain regular that Clint has the worst crush on.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Winterhawk Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891774
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78
Collections: Be Nice To Clint Barton, Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	Crushes, Bakery, and Plums

**Author's Note:**

> A contribute to Winterhawk Bingo:
> 
> Prompt: Plums

“There you are, I  _ was  _ -” 

Natasha paused at the sight of the blonde bending over their shared kitchen counter. His back was to her as she entered the kitchen, the smelled of something sweet being burnt lingering in the room. It made her pause in her entrance and double backing into the hallway to turn the AC on to dissipate the smell. “Clint, what did you do?”

Clint grumbled something under his breath about fucking something up, something the baker and his co-partner didn’t quite catch as she stared at him from across the counter. His body language and grumbling alone radiated how disappointed he was in himself. “I was just trying to bake something. And it...it…”

Natasha’s head tilted to the side, green eyes taking in the blonde’s crumpled face. Oh, well if that just didn't make her heart ache. Clint looked absolutely pathetic. His bottom lip was trying not to tremble and his face pinched in that manner that told her he was trying his damn best not to cry. He looked pitiful in only the manner that Clint Barton could with bits of flour freckled across his face and chunks of butter in his hair.

Before Clint was a...cake? It was a steaming mess of thickly chunked, black crumbs. 

“Clint -” Her tone was softer now, edging towards sympathetic.

“I’m  _ fine!” _ The blonde grunted as he shoved the cake into the trashcan, starting to rip off his apron. “It was a stupid promise anyway.”

Natasha was silent, raising an eyebrow as he turned his back to her.

"Y’know the brunette with the metal arm that comes in the cafe a lot?” He spun around to face her, long fingers playing with the tail-end of the singed apron. 

How had he burned that?

“The one that you’ve been selflessly flirting with for months? You won’t shut up about him. I think everyone in the world knows about your crushes on each other but the two of you." Now she just sounded amused. 

“Yeah. That guy,” he mumbled, kicking at an eggshell on the floor. “Anyway, I was an idiot and it-it was a ridiculous idea anyway. I don’t know what made me say it, Nat, but I told him I’d bake him a cake!” 

There was that frustration in his voice again, as his fingers raked butter and flour through his hair. “Nat, you gotta help me! I don’t bake. You bake, I just man the front and make barely drinkable coffee.”

“I wouldn’t say barely drinkable given that’s one of our best sellers.” She kicked the trashcan so the lid would close and try to stifle out some of the burned smell. “I don’t know what you want me to do to help you, Clint. I’m not the one that promised an annoyingly hot guy a whole cake, knowing I can’t bake.”

Clint’s mouth fell open, snapping it shut and grumbling under his breath. He watched Nat pull a beer out of the fridge, looking amused with herself. “Can’t you bake something for me? He won’t know the difference. I can’t just show up empty-handed tomorrow, I’ll die of embarrassment.” 

The redhead rolled her eyes and let out a long sigh as she popped the tap to the beer. “Well, don’t forget to find me a replacement if you decide to die tomorrow. I can’t open the shop without my partner.” She gently hip-checked him as she left, leaving Clint to groan in her absence. 

\--

Fall had finally fallen and tonight’s weather mimicked Clint’s mood with the cold, stinging air and the rain splattering around him. He could feel the rain stinging his flushed cheeks as he weaved in between the hurried crowds that bobbed from one awning to the next like a bunch of meerkats.

Clint huffed out a breath, watching his breath linger in the air for a second before dissipating around him. He was disappointed in himself, for having made this promise on a spur of a moment. He wasn’t sure if he could honestly face James tomorrow and tell him that he can’t actually bake and the cake just wasn’t going to happen.

Natasha was right. He had some ridiculous crush on the veteran that just made him speak without thinking. Now he was suffering from those choices.  _ Great. _

That stupid smile of the annoyingly attractive veteran could get Clint to agree to anything if he was being honest with himself. 

_ “Clint?” _

The owner of the Brooklyn-accented voice broke through Clint’s fog of thoughts, causing the barista to skid to a stop. He looked up to find the owner of the familiar voice, his heart lurching in his throat.

Just his luck, damn it. 

It was James, the broad veteran with a metal arm poking out of a ripped sleeve from his jacket. He was smiling up at Clint, his metallic fingers holding onto a steaming Starbuck's cup trying to savior its warmth against the bitter cold.

“Hey,  _ you,” _ Clint breathed, feeling his heart lightening as his eyes laid on the man. Seriously, how could you be in a bad mood with a pretty face like that around? “You cheating on us now? Gotta admit bro that kinda stings.”

James laughed and it might as well had been a breath of fresh air for the blonde. Damn, he loved that sound. Maybe life just wasn’t so miserable when he got to make James laugh. He couldn’t bake for him as he promised, but he got him to laugh. That was something, right?

“Would it be considered cheating when you don’t sell your coffee outside of the cafe and I’m forced to get some barely consumable beverage elsewhere? Kinda rude on the two of you there, bud.”

“We’ll call it even then, alright? You ain’t cheating on us and I’ll pretend I didn’t see a Starbuck’s coffee cup in your hand.” A thoughtful look flickered across Clint’s face, his mind doing that thing again where it was turning over questions and ideas before his filter could stop them. “What’s your favorite dessert? I know I promised to bake you something, wanna be sure its something you’d eat.”

_ “Oh, huh.  _ That’s a good question.” The brunette took a long sip of the bitter beverage, his brow pinching slightly in thought. All Clint’s mind was doing was turning over the thought of James in an oversized sweater. 

“German Plum Cake. When I was stationed in Germany, I frequented a little cafe on the edge of town and they had this delicious cake I couldn't get enough of. A little, old lady made that cake daily, sometimes I felt like it was just for me. I swear it’s what heaven tastes like.” 

Nodding his head, Clint hummed in response. “Hard to compete against a little old lady. I mean, what if my dessert is better than hers? That’s kinda a mortal sin, James! That’s  _ probably  _ illegal.”

Clapping the blonde on the shoulder, the veteran gave that same grin that made Clint’s heart flutter. “Don’t ask, don’t tell, sweetheart. It’s more than just a policy for the military.”

Forced to overdramatically stand on his toes for the show of their height difference, James pressed the barest of kisses to the corner of Clint’s lips. 

The blonde’s face flushed seven shades of red as the man walked away, leaving his mind once again in a wonderful daze.

\--

_ Plums. Plums. Plums.  _

Clint was sure he’s never seen this many plums in his entire life. Plums were okay in his opinion. He couldn’t see the huge love for them, but if James loved them, then he was going to make this stupid cake.

And hope that it didn’t end up with offending some little lady in Germany.

\--

_ “Well?”  _

Clint was a ball of nervous energy as he watched James shove the last forkful of the slice of cake into his mouth.

They sat in the empty cafe, the sounds of the rain pattering against the window breaking up the silence. Natasha had left early when James had come in close to closing time, tossing the keys to Clint and told him she was going to go look for his replacement.

“Okay,  _ bro _ , can you please just say something? I need to know what you thought of the damn thing.” 

The rest of the cake sat in its container on the counter. When James had seen it on his arrival, his eyes lit up and for a second, Clint swore he looked gitty at the sight of the cake. 

“I’m trying to think here,” James hummed when Clint finally gave him a moment to talk between his nervous rambling. He held his coffee cup with both hands, looking up at Clint over the rim of his mug. “I’m trying to think on how to tell you that damn cake should be illegal for how good it is and  _ yes, _ it’s better than Omi’s.”

A blissful look was on Clint’s face, looking as if he could almost cry from the relieving news. “You are such a dork.”

\--

The rain was once again drumming against the window. A fire was crackling in the fireplace, steam from two mugs rising as a hand poured coffee. A metal hand snuck out from an oversized purple sweater to snatch a plum from the basket of fruit. 

_ “Nu-uh,” _ Clint breathed, lightly slapping Bucky’s hand until he dropped the plum. “Eat a banana, you potassium deprived bastard. I gotta use those for the cake since you ate my last batch.”

Bucky wore a shit-eating grin as he watched his boyfriend pull out a batch of cinnamon muffins from the oven.

_ “Fine,” _ he sighed dramatically, “but you owe me more plums after this.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> They're dorks in love and in oversized sweaters.


End file.
